


Amortentia

by Finian



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU where everything is okay, M/M, New tags!, another dumb oc makes another vague appearance!, credence lives au, graves is daddy af, graves is smarter than that, irresponsible use of potionmaking, one of my dumb ocs makes a vague appearance, there might be smut as an alternate ending to this so if you want it it might happen, tina is such a big sister
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finian/pseuds/Finian
Summary: Credence finds a potionbook in the back of the MACUSA library. Credence also misunderstands the concept of love.





	1. Brew

The potion was shimmering, opalescent, when Credence finally tipped it out of the small pewter cauldron and into a little glass ampere. It smelled like rain, and wool, and Graves. He knew that, though, the book he'd been learning from told him as much. Amortentia, a love potion, it smells different to every wizard. Wizard. He was a wizard, and he'd just made a potion. A potion that he'd slowly borrowed ingredients for from Mr. Scamander- who had no doubt caught on to his little foray into the wizarding world against the direct instructions of Mr. Graves. 

There weren't many things Percival told him he couldn't do, but unsupervised magic was one of them. He understood why, of course, knew full well of that swirling inky darkness that laid at rest deep in his stomach, the one he could feel crawling up his throat every time he performed a spell. Over the months it had quieted down, gotten marginally smaller with every bit of focus he poured into his studies. Newt had insisted he go off to Hogwarts, Tina fought for him to go to a smaller charter school in Massachusetts, but when Mr. Graves had laid down that he was going to take him as an apprentice, he was relieved. Besides, he had grunted, you don't start school at 19. He'd be an adult in a class learning wand movements. Credence was a natural.

Credence shook himself from his haze, potion warm in his palm. A love potion. He dreamed of something like this when he was younger, palms stinging and curled into little fists under his threadbare blankets. A love potion- to make his mother love him, to make someone love him enough to take him away, to make him love himself. And now he was holding it in his hand, warm and fragrant and shining like the moon itself. He stoppered it, slipped it into his pocket, and began to clean up what little mess he'd made. The fourth floor library bathroom was just as spotless as ever when he left, and he even made sure to tuck the little potion book into the empty spot on the shelf. No one would ever know he'd even touched it. Probably. He made his way past the sweet librarian- the one who was always so patient and kind with him, happy to point him towards different books and explain how things worked when he didn't quite understand. She reminded him of Newt, in a way, so absolutely genius like he was. He gave her a friendly little smile, doing his best not to hunch over himself in the process, and tried to make a beeline for the door.

"Credence!" She chirped, waving him over and leaning across the desk. "Can I speak to you for a moment?" His heart leapt into his mouth- he'd been caught, they would throw him out, he would be left with the thing in him, he would- she must have noticed the panic on his face, because she was quick to continue. "I found a book you might enjoy!" The wave of relief was nearly visible, like the darkness at the edges of his vision had been flooded with sunlight again. There was a part of him that wondered if that darkness hadn't just been a visual thing, but that inky darkness was solidly settled in his chest like a tame cat. 

"Thank you- I- now isn't the- the best of times." Oh, shoot, there was that faltering stutter he had worked so hard to overcome here. He was one of them, after all. She smiled, and he couldn't help coming closer to her. It was like she knew some sort of secret that he didn't, and he really wanted to know it.

"Credence, you know, you're technically a member. Being Graves's apprentice means you have full roam here." Of course he knew that, he just enjoyed the library. Was this some weird way of kicking him out? "So there's no reason to brew potions in the bathroom like it's a secret. We have potions labs downstairs that you're more than welcome to use." Credence could feel the tips of his ears burning as he nodded, fingers wrapped around the bottle in his pocket.

"I didn't know. I was just doing something out of a book I'd found. It didn't work. Maybe I ought to go speak with Mister Graves about it." He was sure she could see through that fib, that she would ask to see the potion, but she just sent him off with a tiny book of charms to practice with 'grumpy old Percy'. He thanked her, bowed his head, and scurried off towards Mr. Graves's office. The potion in his pocket was cool now, and he could still catch whiffs of it- Graves, now oranges, whiskey- no, no that was the real Mister Graves he was smelling, the auror was just down the hall chatting with a colleague, back to Credence.

He was tempted to run. Run, toss the potion down the drain, go back to studying little charms and simple spells. Graves had told him that after the holiday job spike, he would begin learning more complex stuff, real wizard stuff. Maybe he ought to just wait for that. He stepped to turn around, but Graves beat him to it, and once he saw that face, he was rooted to the spot. It always happened to him, always took him an extra few moments to get his feet working again once they'd stopped, always made his heart stop a moment.

“Credence! Boy, come meet an old friend of Mister Scamander’s. This is Maxwell King.” Credence stepped forwards, and Graves met him halfway with a casual arm slung across his shoulder. Typically, meeting other wizards was fun and exciting, and it wasn’t that Maxwell was boring- they were a very interesting person- but all of Credence’s focus was on the warmth of that arm across the back of his shoulders and neck. The potion in his pocket felt heavier with every passing word exchanged between the two older wizards, and all he wanted to do was show Mister Graves. Or, perhaps-

“Sir?” He piped up during a hesitation in the conversation. “Can I bring you both coffee? I would- really like some.” Maxwell set off onto a tangent about ‘good old Cafe Americano’, but Graves lifted his arm to let him slip away. He was upset at the loss of contact, but happy to be setting things into gear. As much as he wanted to impress Graves’s friend with his magic, if they were a friend of Mister Scamander, conjuring up coffee wouldn’t be anything impressive. Besides- he had a plan to enact.

One trip to the kitchen later, and Credence was carrying a tray of mismatched coffee cups back towards Graves’s office. Maxwell, it seemed, had gone inside, but Graves was waiting outside of the door. Credence handed him the cup with the nick in the side, catching a whiff of coffee and rain and wool and Graves. The ampere in his pocket, now empty, felt as warm as his palm had when he’d tipped the opalescent liquid into the black coffee. Graves smiled, mumbled his appreciation, and gestured him inside.


	2. Distill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence deals with confrontation, and the fact that not all love is equal.

It seemed that the odd-looking wizard had left between Credence leaving to get coffee and his return. With a casual flick of his wand, Graves sent the coffee out of existence- most likely, though, it had just gone to wherever they’d gone. The auror lifted the coffee cup to his mouth, but before he took a sip, he was pulling it away again, brows furrowed. Oh no, he knew. Instead of the immediately barrage of questioning Credence was positive he was about to receive, he got a smile. 

 

“Vanilla? This must be new. It almost even smells like-” Graves popped the lid off with a practiced motion, catching it between his forefingers and the cup. Credence had to pull his eyes up and away from that, turning instead to look at his face once more. Graves took a long, deep breath. “Almost smells like the shampoo you use. Fruity.” Instead of taking a sip, though, he set it down on his desk, taking his time to replace the lid.

 

“It was what they had downstairs.” Credence felt a twinge of guilt at lying through his teeth like that, but it was second nature to him now. He found himself constantly catching himself lying about the smallest, most insignificant things, but he always told the truth immediately afterwards. Graves was so patient with him, never raised his voice, always waited for him- Credence darted out, grabbing Graves’s cup from the desk and setting his own down. “I got it for myself. Sorry. I must have mixed up the cups.”

 

“Sit down, Credence.” Graves didn’t sound upset with him, and now he wasn’t about to drink the amortentia he’d brewed, so everything was okay again. Right? He sat, doing his best to keep his eyes up and not stare at his knees. “Your hair is getting long. It looks good, but you can get it cut, if you’d like. I’m sure Ms. Goldstein would be more than happy to take you.” Credence lifted his hand self-consciously to run his fingers through his hair- it was getting long. The tips nearly brushed at his jaw now, but he’d always somewhat disliked how short his hair was. Besides, this was a new him now. He shook his head, still holding the coffee full of amortentia in his lap. “One of the librarians tells me you’re taking a shining to potion making. Brewing potions in the bathroom isn’t, as far as I’m aware, isn’t against any laws. Though you would probably get better results if you used the potion lab. Let’s see this failed potion, then.”

 

Shit. Credence’s hand went immediately to his pocket, wrapping around the empty ampere. It was empty, right? So there should be no problem. He lifted it, setting it down on the desk and finally dropping his vision to his knees. Graves took it, gingerly, and pried the little cap off of it. Credence couldn’t tell what he was thinking for a few moments, eyes flicking between spots on the desk.

 

“You aren’t in trouble, Credence. What were you doing brewing this? And where is the rest of it?” When he looked up, Graves was shaking a few droplets of shimmering liquid, one eyebrow raised. He didn’t look mad- he was telling the truth. Credence wasn’t in trouble. “This won’t get you the kind of love you want. This is obsession, infatuation. Did you run it down the drain?” 

 

“No, sir.” He left it at that, eyes dropping from where they’d found the auror’s face. His fingers tightened around the quickly cooling coffee, enough that he was sure Graves would understand without him speaking. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure exactly what he was sorry for anymore- he wasn’t in trouble for making the potion to begin with. As if it would even work. There was no way to know, anyhow, no one would be drinking it.

 

“It’s in there?” Graves stepped around his desk, leaning one hip against the wood and gesturing to the coffee cup. “You were going to have me drink it. Why?” That was a question Credence was always answering. Why, why, why. Why this spell? Why this wand movement? Why take this street? It was never anything harsh, it was always just to make him think, to help ground him, help keep his head above that inkpit. The inkpit that was, surprisingly, very calm for how anxious he was feeling. He was anxious about Graves thinking he was a bad person, he supposed, instead of being anxious about magic. The Obscurus never seemed to care for much other than magic.

 

“I always thought- isn’t love just love?” He knew he wasn’t really answering the question. “I used to dream about a love potion. It didn’t look like this- but I made this, I followed all of the steps, I didn’t miss anything.” What he wanted, more than the questioning, was for Graves to be proud of him for doing something so advanced on his own. That spot on the desk sure looked interesting, though. As much as he liked to watch Graves, he couldn’t look at the moment. Credence nearly jumped when a warm hand came down on his arm, gentle, tugging him up from the chair. When he stood, he was nearly eye-level with Graves’s jaw.

 

“What do you want me to be for you, Credence? I can’t just be your teacher.” That warm hand didn’t leave his arm, and he could feel how strong it was, even through his jacket. “I want you to be happy. You’re important to me.” Something about that must have struck a nerve, because his stomach felt like it was full of bees. Important, useful, a weapon, it was all the same. He barely heard what Graves said after that, too focused on swallowing the surge of panic down. “I love you already, Credence.”

 

“What?” The feeling in his stomach cut, leaving him feeling a little tingly. Graves smiled, bumping their foreheads together affectionately. 

 

“I said I love you already, Credence. Don’t you realize? Miss Goldstein does, too. Along with Mister Scamander, though you can never be quite sure where you sit in the ranking with all of his creatures. But there are many kinds of love. What do you want?” He hadn’t ever stopped to think about that. When he dreamed of love potions, it was always for his family, or people who didn’t exist. But Graves- he made him feel like he was full of warm fire. It was different than how he felt with Tina or Newt, it was something more. He set the coffee cup down on the desk, slow, deliberate, before wrapping his arms around Percival’s torso, pressing his face into his clean-pressed shirt.

 

“You.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay maybe smut next chapter? I hate just throwing Credence into sex or something, he's so sweet. I guess the right thing to do would be to ask what the collective y'all want to see! More slow burn, or something a little steamier?
> 
> Also I'm sorry that these chapters are so short. It's easier for me to get things done broken up into these chunks, or else you might never get anything out of me!


	3. Simmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simmer is a little more gentle than a boil.

“Me?” Graves didn’t sound as collected as he usually did, caught off guard by Credence flinging himself against his chest. After a moment of silence from the boy, he raised his arms to settle them around his waist. “You’ve got me. You ought to be more specific.”

“I just- I always thought-” Credence was stuttering, losing his words as soon as they came into his head. “I mean, that is-” Graves cut him off with a gentle little squeeze, and he took the moment to collect himself a little better. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Credence. Like a son, like a friend.” Graves craned his neck a bit, resting his chin on the top of Credence’s head. He remembered something about the coffee smelling like his shampoo- and he broke the hug to look at Graves a little closer.

“Sir- you said that that potion isn’t love, it’s infatuation. And it’s supposed to smell like what you love, right?” He nearly set back to wringing his hands until Graves’s hands found his shoulders. “Well- well mine smelled like you. And yours smelled like me, right, sir?” That must mean something, he reasoned, must mean that Graves loves him in the same inexplicable way that he loved Graves. The silence from the older wizard had him casting his eyes down again, looking for an interesting spot on one of his shoes.

“Credence, do you want a haircut? Just to trim it. I’ll have Tina pick you up.” Those warm hands left his shoulders, cold air from the office rushed back against his clothes and chilled him to the core. Graves spoke into his wand like a radio, letting Tina know that she could take the day off, come pick up Credence, take him to get his hair trimmed. Credence was torn. He’d never seen a wizard haircut, but- what did this mean for the two of them, then, if Graves was so quick to push him away to someone else?

“I’ll- wait outside.” Credence’s voice was small and rough when he did speak, and he was sure that Graves could hear the hot tears welling in his eyes. He waited a moment, got no response, and made his way out of the room. He nearly collapsed against the wall outside of the door, clapping a hand to his mouth to muffle the choked little sobs that spilled out between his fingers. He knew he had to collect himself- how could he explain this to Miss Goldstein?- but he was finding it nearly impossible to keep his emotions in check.

And that inky pit in the bottom of his stomach began to bubble and boil over like an unwatched cauldron, and he could feel his entire existence vibrating, fizzing, jittering-

“Credence?” It was Tina. “Credence, I’m here to get you for a haircut? Do you hear me?” He did hear her, and evidently, so did the Obscurus. It settled down like a well-trained dog, and his skin felt like, well, skin again.

“I’m- sorry. I don’t know what-” He began, so used to apologizing, but Tina cut him off with a gentle hug and a warm smile.

“Don’t apologize. Come on, we can pick up some lunch on the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for both the wait and the short chapter. I've been playing catch up on commissions over on Flight Rising, and you know, holidays. Family. Being out of the house for days on end. Yuck!
> 
> Next chapter should be longer. Thanks again for all the support!!


	4. Overflow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe a haircut wasn't a bad idea.

There were a lot of things about the magical world that Credence had been overwhelmed by. Self-filling bathtubs, pictures that moved on the page, wands,  _ potions _ . So, while he  felt like his heart had been shattered into a million pieces, he couldn’t deny that he was excited at the idea of a wizard haircut. Tina hooked her arm in his as they walked- Credence kept his head down and his shoulders hunched while Tina chattered, but it was comfortable. Familiar. 

 

Which is why Credence was so surprised when they stopped at the hairdresser he used to walk past on his way to hand out pamphlets. He’d never thought that it was anything other than an ordinary hairdresser, and the only people he’d seen come in and out didn’t much look like wizards. Then again, he supposed, neither did Tina until she pulled out her wand. He barely registered what Tina was saying to him as they walked through the door, ringing the bell hanging above it. There was an old man leaning against a broom in the back of the shop- but he was sweeping hair with it, not flying on it. A younger man laughed from the opposite side of the shop, sleeves rolled up as he washed an older woman’s hair. Tina ushered Credence over to a little line of chairs, sitting down and offering him a magazine. None of the pictures moved, but he hardly noticed it. Those moving pictures always made him a little nervous anyways.

 

“So, why the sudden change in heart? Last time I suggested a haircut, you looked like you were about to cry.” Tina always smiled while she spoke, and he was thankful for that. Smiling around her was easy.

 

“Mister Graves suggested it.” That was close to the truth, and he didn’t want to tell Tina about what he’d done. “I’m just getting a trim. I like my hair long.” He did his best to keep his feelings out of his voice, but Tina could see through him better than anyone.

 

“He cares about you, you know. We all do.” She settled a hand on his knee, and he studied the back of it while he let her words settle in his brain. She had a little scar on one of her fingers- Credence imagined she got it during an Auror fight, but it was just as likely that she’d been clumsy. He slipped his own hand alongside hers, turning it over to look at all the scars on his palm. Tina made an indignant little noise, grabbing his hand to hold it- for a moment, it was like having a real older sister. “Did he say something to you? To upset you? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, you know.”

 

“I know.” He nodded, squeezing her hand a little. It was something he heard from her often. “It was what he didn’t say, you know? I don’t know how he feels about me. Sometimes it’s- he’s so- I don’t know.”

 

“Infuriating? Stubborn?” Tina laughed, rolling her eyes. “A jerk?”

 

“Vague. He’s vague.” He huffs, leaning his head back. “I don’t ever know what he’s feeling, or thinking, or if he’s mad or not. I think- I really like him, you know? I never thought I would, after everything, but- I don’t know. Everything settles down around him.” He sets his free hand on his stomach, imagining that he could feel the inky pit beneath his skin.

 

“Oh, Credence.” Tina flung her arm around his shoulders, squeezing him close. For a moment, his whole body went tense, before relaxing into the awkward embrace. “He cares about you just as much as well all do. We’re your family. Just because he doesn’t know how to deal with his own mind doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you. He fought harder than just about anyone else to keep you here once he knew that they’d found you.”

 

Credence couldn’t help the little laugh that slipped out of him- they’d found him shivering and soaked on Mill Rock, right off the Hell Gate, watching the ships go by. He’d nearly punched Mister Graves before he passed out. When he came to, and things had been explained, he’d felt awful- but the first thing Graves had said to him was something about how his right hook needed work and they’d laughed it off right there. Tina was squeezing at his hand again for a moment before letting him go- that young man was standing in front of them, drying his hands off on a towel and smiling.

 

It turned out that the ordinary hairdresser Tina had taken him to was just that, an ordinary hairdresser. His name was Thomas and the old man in the back was his father, Jean. He waxed poetic about how ‘lovely’ Credence’s hair was- Credence spent the entire haircut silent, face red. Even though this was just an ordinary haircut, the only other haircuts he’d ever gotten were from his Ma, and those were just her hacking away at his hair with a pair of scissors until it barely touched his ears. Thomas’s fingers were cold, like little spots of ice brushing hair off of his neck, but he didn’t mind it. It was something grounding, and listening to him speak was comforting, even if he didn’t answer him. 

 

In fact, when Thomas asked him questions, he would just skip a beat and answer them himself. The first time it happened, Credence felt horrid. The second time he did it, he realized he was doing it to make Credence laugh. By the time his hair was almost trimmed a whole half an inch shorter, he was laughing at it.

 

“Are you in school? I’m not, of course, too old for it now-”

 

“I have an apprenticeship.” It was the first thing he’d said in close to ten minutes, and Thomas’s hand stopped mid-snip.

 

“You speak! Incredible. In what field?” He didn’t just keep on speaking this time, and it took Credence a moment to come up with an acceptable substitute for the truth.

 

“Working with animals. You know, like a veterinarian.” It was close, he did help Mister Scamander with his pets from time to time. “I’m not very good at it.”

 

“I’m sure you’re fine.” He laughed, giving Credence’s hair a final once-over, before patting at his shoulder. “You’re all done and looking great, man of many words.” Credence stood, grinning- the trim was nice, his hair looked healthier. Maybe Graves had known what he was doing when he’d sent him off for a haircut after all.

 

Tina paid Jean at the counter, and after a few pleasantries, they were on their way again. Just a block up, Tina was already leading Credence into a cozy little corner diner for lunch. Maybe it was alright if Graves didn’t feel the same way, maybe Tina was right.

 

He was still milling that thought over when Graves slipped into the booth across from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm trying to get this rolling again. Next chapter has a good chance at being the last, but there might be one more after that. Then keep your eyes peeled for some other stuff!!


	5. Steam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's back! And I promise, I'll finish it this time. Wonder how Credence's lunch went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really mean it, I'm going to finish this. As in, I already have it planned until the end. (And then, maybe some bonus content, or alternate endings. We'll see.)
> 
> Sorry for the short chapter! This is a segue to the end, which should be the next chapter. Maybe two.
> 
> I also hate to be that guy, but comments really do inspire me! Even if it's just to send a smiley face, every comment fuels this originally-a-one-shot further.

Credence’s stomach felt like a pot of boiling water, full of bubbles and sloshing up over the sides onto the fire below, steaming and hissing like a snake den. The beast in his stomach wasn’t just awake, it was thrashing now, clawing at his organs. It was pissed, but Credence wasn’t- in fact, he was gritting his teeth and blinking back hot tears that threatened to run over the edge of the pot as well. He could see his hands trembling against his pants, and he willed them to be still, but his consciousness was already floating away from his physical form, floating, tethered only by the feeling of his tears in his own eyes.

He wasn’t about to let Graves see him cry. He would rather let the beast take over and tear him to shreds than to let Graves see him cry there in the middle of the diner. So, instead, he forced himself back into his own body, carefully stretching his fingers the way he used to, small movements to prove that he was alright and there. Graves’s mouth was moving- it was a compliment on his haircut, but all he could hear was the snipping of scissors close to his ears again. He kept his eyes down after that, skimming the menu for the cheapest special.

Tina and Graves made small talk, but he heard nothing. When his food came, he barely touched it, but that was routine. There would be nothing to show either of them that something was wrong- no wispy black tendrils threatening to escape. He was just going to suffer in silence. Leg-shaking, fork-scraping silence.

“Credence.” His head whipped up at the mention of his name, fast enough that he thought his neck might snap. It remained woefully unbroken, and he was face to face with Graves. “Are you alright? You haven’t touched your food.”

“I’m- just not that hungry, Mister Graves. I’m sorry.” He was the first to break eye contact, staring back down at his food. Next to him, he could feel Tina mouthing something at Graves, and the subtle jerk of her arm towards him. He knew she meant well, but before he had time to even process the fact that she was telling him off, his hands began to crack. He panicked.

This was a normal diner. This wasn’t a wizard’s diner. He knew how normal people felt when strange things happened, and the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally destroy his absolute favorite diner. He looked up again, eyes wide, as Tina slid out of the booth next to him, and Graves slid in. No, no, this was the last thing he needed, he didn’t want to break apart here, now, ever.

And then Graves was wrapping his arms around him. The floodgates opened, but it was good, everything rushing out of him so he could settle back into his own skin. All there was in the world was him, and Graves, and the tight warmth of the admittedly ill-thought-out hug. They were in public, after all, and Credence wasn’t quite baby-faced enough to pull off being his son. Though, for a long moment, that didn’t matter. He was alright. He was going to be alright.

“I’ve got you. Do you want me to take you back to the office?” Graves was quiet, face pressed against his. He was close enough that he could smell exactly what he’d smelled in the cauldron earlier, shimmering like gems behind his closed eyes.

“Please.” And like that, they were off. Money on the table, too much money on the table, how could he just throw money around like this, jackets on in a flash and heading out the door. Of course he could throw money around like this, it was normal people money. Not like the coins Newt pressed into his hand on an errand one day. Credence barely registered the smells of the city, the clanging and shouting, the way his shoes felt against the sidewalk. There were only two points of existence at the moment- the diner, and the office. The walk was just a space between for him to float away from his body.

It took him until they reached the front door of the building to realize that Graves had very discreetly held his hand the whole way there.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully there will be smut or something in the next chapter or two, who knows. I'm writing this in bursts.


End file.
